


The Devil's Tune

by excerptsofanoverthinker



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 13:15:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10163801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/excerptsofanoverthinker/pseuds/excerptsofanoverthinker
Summary: Western AU one-shot. Jesse McCree is hunting someone with a rather unpleasant curse on his back...





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was so much fun to write.  
> Based on a fanart, I felt motivated enough to write this thing. Now, I would link the source, but sadly I can't find the picture anymore. Great job, me.  
> ANYWAY, I really loved the idea, so maybe I will write more about it in the future? Let's see!  
> Either way, it was super fun!

11:45.

The drying heat of the ever mighty ball of flame in the sky burned across these dusty lands and over  
its citizens. Just like every other normal day. The town was brimming with sighs and moans of the  
good and honest people doing their daily work. Messengers were sending telegrams to countries  
over the far seas and back home. The loveliest ladies in town were presenting themselves in their  
most alluring fashion, making the travelling men grin across their tanned and pockmarked faces.  
And of course... the undertaker was also fulfilling his duty. Forming the ever lasting place to rest for  
all of us, with just some simple pieces of wood.  
We all will find this rest, one way or another. Some of us later. Some of us much sooner. One day,  
we all are going to meet our maker. Around here, the dead hear him before they see him. They hear  
the calm inducing sound of a guitar string; every sound getting louder and louder. Until there is just  
this one tune and nothing but the tune. That's what people say about our passing around here.  
Me? I can confirm that saying.

 

11:50.

Good ol' Donny. Look at him, running like crazy during this heatwave, sweating bullets. His once very  
well chosen shirt drenched like it just rained few minutes ago.  
He's a good man. Always tried his best to do good. But even the good can't escape death.  
He cheated him once. Today he won't cheat again.  
Now, Donald was rushing past all these busy people. Pushed them even off the side. He lost it. That  
poor man. Once he saw me, he lost all sense of good behavior. Didn't even say 'Hello' to one of his  
former pals. Immediately ran off. He knew why I was seeing him.  
Can't blame him though. I wasn't expectin' a nice little chit-chat before business.  
I followed his trail of angry people and broken goods. Took my time. No need to waste precious  
breath. Once the people saw me, their faces shifted into horrified variations of fear and anger. Most  
of all despise. Glares shooting around left and right, like they're tryin' to banish me from this world.  
I feel sorry for these folks, but I don't think it will be that easy to rid me.  
I noticed murmurs and whispers. They come and go with me. My usual travelling companion was  
bad blood. But I don't hate them for that. Why should you hate people, who're simply afraid for  
their life?  
I didn't hate Donny as well. Was one of the better people of our group. Had always a good joke at  
the tip of his tongue. Even had a wife and some kids. Had them. The sorrow was his biggest mistake  
in life.

 

11:55.

I heard some ruckus to my right side. The path was leading into a little alley between this peaceful  
town's saloon and some shabby barber shop. The shadows of the buildings filled the alley in  
darkness. I could see some stash, stored against a wall. Amongst this junk I saw him. Lying like  
some bent up doll in the dirt, no time to moan about it; he immediately saw me.  
"No. No, no, no, no!", I heard him denying. Yeah buddy. No way to run anymore.  
I went into the alleyway. The towns busy noise became silent in an instant. Only the weeping of the  
man in front of me and ergots chiming to the rhythm of my steps. Once I reached the end, he held  
up his hands, attempting to protect himself from whatever may strike him.

"Come on, man. You really doin' this? To your old comrades?!"  
I heard him. Bent down to his sorry ass.

"You did this to old Duncan? Allister? Fuckin' little Zachary?!"  
I heard those names. I remember faces to these names.

"You're not like this, Jesse. You're a good man, like we all were. We all made our mistake here 'n there. But it's all over now. We all moved on. There's no need fo' violence, ain't it?", he pleaded.  
I didn't reply. It made him angry.

"You fuckin' shithead, answer me! I deserve an answer! Why you doing this?! You sold us out? That  
it, are you a God damn snitch?! Gettin' paid for the lifes of your friends, huh? Feels good, doesn't  
it?!"  
Didn't reply. He started to grin.

"I know what they call you nowadays... The Cursed Gunslinger. They say that the dead are your  
constant companions. You reek of them. You filthy traitor, you should've died at the heist!"  
He spit 'fore my boots. Guess he said all he wanted to get off his chest.

"Who said I didn't?", I then replied.  
His eyes widened. I knew that. Didn't have to see. It's always the same reaction.  
I stood up. Shortly stretching my back. Still looking at him. Never leaving my eyes off him.  
What happened then was the bell of the church. Echoing through every little corner of the town.

What a fitting time.

Then... I heard a note. The string of a guitar.  
He heard it too. He heard it loud and clear. He knew what it meant.  
He started yappin' again. I took my time and lighted up a cigar. The only source of light on this  
sunny day.  
The tune came closer. Almost as if it finally found us.  
Donny started to cry. Begged me to just leave him. To give him a second chance. I would've loved  
to do just that.  
I took a drag of the cigar and drew my gun. Directly pointed at the bridge of his nose.  
Held the cigar with my other hand. Its smoke trailed along my hand like a tamed snake.  
"Sorry old pal. No hard feelings.", I spoke against the melody.  
The snake of smoke dissipated into a cloud, forming a teethy grin and two empty eye sockets.  
He felt his presence. He was finally there. He found him. This time he would take him. I felt almost  
something like a guiding hand on my shoulder.  
"Just a deal with the devil 'imself."

'pulled the trigger. And like any usual day, there was just the melodic tune. And nothing but the tune.


End file.
